Death Warmed Up
by LittleBritainFanatic
Summary: Oskar finds his dad in the bathroom, and he's really ill. But will Thomas pull through?


Oskar Schell rolled over onto his back, pulling the duvet off of himself in the process. The cold winter air bit into his skin, which was uncovered because his pyjama top had ridden up, exposing his pinch-marked chest. Shivering, Oskar awoke. It was so dark in his bedroom that he might as well have had his eyes closed, because he couldn't see a thing. Oskar hated the dark; his nightlight wasn't switched on.

Hyperventilating, Oskar fumbled for his torch, which he switched on, bathing the room in dazzlingly bright light. He relaxed, feeling reassured, and safe. But, he was now too tense to fall asleep again, so Oskar switched his bedroom light on, and decided to read. He had a lot of fact, science and astronomy books to choose from, but Oskar picked 'A Brief History of Time' by Stephen Hawking, because it was his dad's favourite bed time book to read him.

Taking the book back to bed, Oskar layed on his stomach, and quickly lost himself in the world of astrophysics. It was only when he became aware of his need to visit the bathroom that Oskar moved, noting that three hours had passed since he woke up. After having a quick stretch, Oskar opened his bedroom door, and headed across the landing. He could tell, even from here, that someone was in the bathroom, for light was shining through the frosted glass panel in the bathroom door. He guessed that his mum was in there, because he had observed that she was the one who used the toilet the most.

But when he padded up to the door, which he realised was ajar, and gently pushed it open, Oskar saw his father was in there. Something was defiantly wrong, though. Thomas Schell was hunched over the toilet bowl, and, judging by the horrible sounds he was making, he appeared to be vomiting. Fear appeared inside Oskar's chest - one of his worst fears was people being ill, especially his dad.

"Dad?" Oskar said uncertainly, not sure whether or not to move from the doorway.

Thomas turned his head and looked at Oskar, showing the boy his pale, sweat soaked face, with flushed cheeks and overly bright eyes. He heaved again and vomited violently down the toilet. When he had finished, he leaned back against the bathtub, shivering.

"Dad." Oskar repeated, going over to Thomas and crouching down beside him. Cautiously, he touched his father's forehead, recoiling as his fingers became coated in hot sweat. He wiped his hand on his pyjamas. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay." Thomas replied weakly, before his stomach cramped and he groaned loudly, holding his stomach. But he missed the toilet, vomiting all over its seat and the floor, eyes watering madly as he threw up.

"No - you have a fever, Dad." Oskar corrected, trying to think what could be wrong with his father. "You need to take off your clothes to allow your body to cool itself down."

Despite the fact his face was tense with pain, Thomas chuckled at that, "Yes, Doctor." Attempting to unbutton his top, Thomas' hands shook too much to do so, so Oskar decided to help him.

When Thomas was just wearing his boxers, Oskar asked, "Do you still think you are going to vomit again?" There was no readable concern in his voice.

Thomas shrugged, he didn't feel particularly nauseous any more, but his stomach was still churning. He was more concerned at the moment by his fever, because he felt really cold, but knew he was overheating. Slumping forwards, Thomas rested his head against the cool plastic toilet seat, arms wrapped around his aching abdomen.

"That isn't very hygienic, you know." Oskar informed his dad, who laughed slightly again. Only Oskar could say such unimportant things at a time like this.

Wanting to help his sick dad, Oskar ran into the kitchen, grabbed the first aid kit, and, picking up the tea towel - the first piece of fabric he could find - he ran it under the tap, making his version of an ice pack. The wet towel dripping onto the floor, Oskar returned to the bathroom, where, to his distress, Thomas appeared to have passed out.

"Dad!" He said firmly, slapping his dad across the face. He placed the wet towel over Thomas' forehead, and, continuing to shake and slap his unconscious father, Oskar put the thermometer under his tongue. Wishing he had his tambourine, Oskar waited thirty seconds, and pulled the saliva covered thermometer from Thomas' mouth, still attempting to wake him up. But when he read the reading, Oskar really began to panic: it read 103 degrees Fahrenheit. That was bad, he knew it was bad, but he didn't know what else to do.

Oskar wanted to curl up in the bathtub and cry, but he forced himself to hurry to his parents room, because his dad's life was at risk. Hitting his mum's arm, Linda jerked awake, jumping as she saw Oskar standing over her. Fear was written on his face.

"What is it, Oskar?" She asked, stifling a yawn, realising that something was up.

"Dad's sick." Was all the terrified boy said. It took Linda a few seconds to realise what he had said.

"What, where is he?" She said urgently, sitting up.

"The bathroom, he passed out, he's got a hight fever - is he going to die, Mom?" Oskar babbled, saying it all as one long sentence.

Linda stumbled out of bed and half ran down the landing towards the bathroom. Oskar dropped back from running beside her, but he soon returned, now holding his tambourine, which meant he was really stressed out. She burst into the bathroom, where Thomas was lying next to the toilet, just wearing his underpants, a wet towel on his head, and his pyjamas, the first aid kit, and a pool of vomit beside him. She guessed that most of this was down to Oskar attempting to do first aid, and wanted to hug her son for trying so hard to help Thomas, but Linda was only focused on the way her husband was out cold.

"Thomas!" She cried, hurrying towards him. She lifted his head off of the lino and rested it on her lap, slapping his cheeks again and again to try to rouse him. "What was his temperature, Oskar?" She asked. Oskar realised that his mum was crying.

"103 degrees." Oskar said, "Should I dial 911?" He asked.

Linda gasped at Oskar's announcement, and nodded, knowing Thomas needed to go to hospital.

Oskar hurtled into the living room and dialled 911, asking for an ambulance and then telling the ambulance dispatcher about his father's symptoms. Once he got talking, he couldn't stop babbling about what might be wrong with Thomas; Oskar had just told her it might be Ebola when she had to ask him to stop talking to tell her their address. He did, but then started listing deadly diseases again, only shutting up when she told him and ambulance as on its way, and she hung up.

He then wandered back into the bathroom, shaking his tambourine, and saw Thomas' eyes were starting to open again.

"Dad!" He yelled, sounding hysterical.

Linda kissed Thomas's sweaty forehead, telling him he was going to be aright, but then Thomas vomited again, making hideous noises. He whimpered in pain, particularly when he saw bright red blood in his sick.

Linda and Oskar saw too, but whist Oskar screamed, convinced his dad was dying, Linda wiped the tears from Thomas' face, telling him that he was alright, an ambulance was on its way, and he was going to get better. But Oskar was convinced that his fear was justified, and couldn't stop his mind telling him that Thomas wad going to die.


End file.
